From one of the smaller service doors that wrapped around the rear of the Institute, a woman stepped out, stretching her arms.
Her hair was a striking shade of blue, but also short and windswept. She had the look of someone who didn't care much for polish; her white uniform jacket was unzipped halfway, revealing a dark compression top underneath, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. A small cross pendant hung loosely around her neck, bouncing against her collarbone as she walked.
Also, near her chest, there was a small golden emblem, the same exact one that Enochia had, saying: Class Alpha, Year One.
"You really stood up a fucking Apostle, huh? Girl, you have some massive balls," she said, smirking as she approached Enochia, who was still sitting on the bench. "The ceremony ended like fifteen minutes ago. I was sitting there the whole time, watching Philippa try to cover for you while everyone whispered about where the hell you were. It was hilarious!"
Enochia turned her head, and the glow in her eyes brightened even more, followed by a grin that made her look almost mischievous. She straightened up, dusted off her uniform, and in a heartbeat, wrapped her arms around the newcomer.
"Nephara!" she said, squeezing tight enough to make the other woman grunt. "You have no idea how happy I am we're in the same class! I was about to lose my mind if they split us up."
Nephara chuckled, returning the hug with one arm before flicking her friend on the forehead with the other. "Yeah, yeah, save the dramatics. I should be mad at you, actually."
"What? Why?"
"Don't 'why' me!" Nephara said, grinning as she ruffled Enochia's hair. "You're my ride or die, and you pulled zero strings for your bestie! I had to fight my way in like some scrub while you're out here sitting on a throne made of that green cabbage."
Enochia blinked, suddenly sweating, hands raised in mock innocence. "Wh—what? Don't be ridiculous. I couldn't pull any strings even if I wanted to. My acceptance was purely on merit, obviously, same as everyone's."
Nephara squinted, grin widening. "The hell you mean you couldn't pull strings? Your big bro is literally our teacher, Chia."
"Don't. Call. Me. That." Enochia's smile twitched, and her tone went from saintly to sharp in an instant. "It wasn't clever ten years ago, and it's not clever now. Besides, the students should be in class by now, so the coast's clear. Let's go before we get caught."
Nephara snorted, jogging to catch up as Enochia started walking toward the rear entrance. "Relax, Chia. You act like we're sneaking into Alcatraz."
She draped an arm around Enochia's shoulders, leaning in close. "Also, you're overreacting. I've got like, what, twenty times less followers than you? And even I was treated like a damn rock star on my way here. It's actually a great feeling!"
Enochia rolled her eyes and pushed her off. "As my best friend, you do know that I don't like physical things unless I start them first, right?" She said as she brushed her shoulders.
Nephara just said a quick "Oops, silly me." as she jokingly hit herself on the head.
They began walking, and quickly entered the doors Nephara had just come out of. The halls were utterly spotless and made of marble, but completely empty as well. Enochia couldn't say she was impressed much by this, nor the gigantic windows that showed the beautiful garden, mostly because she had come here on her brother's request way too many times.
"You think we should hurry?" Nephara asked, glancing toward the somewhat distant elevators.
Enochia didn't even look up. She was inspecting her nails, painted a soft blue. "Please. My brother wouldn't start a class without me. I could fuck with him and skip the whole thing, to make him look like an idiot in front of the students, but…" she shrugged, smiling faintly, "I'm a good sister. I'll just be fashionably late. Also, it helps his case that the first class of the year lasts twenty minutes, and is used mostly to introduce us to the basics."
Nephara raised a brow. "Fashionably late… Right. Totally not a power move."
"Of course not," Enochia said, feigning innocence. "Besides, it was his idea that I could hang back here until things calmed down."
She looked up, having a private thought. 'He really knows I hate the IRL scrubs swarming me. Also, he might have been pissed at Steel and Philippa when he said that, since for a fact I know they didn't approve of it.'
Nephara smirked. "Yeah, must be real hard being the most photographed woman on Earth."
Enochia turned her head just enough for her eyes to catch Nephara's reflection in the window wall. "The Apostles get it. They're all just as popular as me, if not more. They understand the struggle."
"Uh-huh. Poor you, surrounded by fans, sponsorships, and fan clubs. Real tragic."
Enochia just smiled, taking the final steps to the elevator and pressing the button. The doors opened with a soft chime, and she stepped in first. Nephara followed, leaning back against the wall.
"Also, about that thing earlier…"
Enochia glanced at her, one brow raised. "What thing?"
"The thing where you said you didn't pull strings." Nephara crossed her arms. "I get it, you earned your spot a while before the whole initiation trial. But are you sure you didn't pull any for Damaris? She was never much of a fighter, and suddenly she's not only in Minos Prime but in our Alpha class?"
Enochia blinked once, then burst out laughing. Like, genuinely laughing, loud enough that the sound bounced off the walls. "Oh, come on. You really think I helped her? No, no, no." She waved a hand dismissively. "You might not believe it, but besides me, and maybe that piece of trash Damian, Damaris is probably the strongest Saint in this batch."
Nephara blinked, confused. "Ehhhh? Since when?"
"Since she unlocked that new skill of hers," Enochia said, smirking. "It's busted as hell. You'll see. I'm actually surprised she didn't brag to you about it. The three of us have been besties for, what, ten years? I guess she's still a little bitter that you passed her in followers last year."
Nephara snorted. "No way in hell is she that bratty."
The elevator chimed, doors sliding open onto another hallway. Enochia stepped out, giving her a sidelong look over her shoulder. "Why not? You're just as bratty as you think she is."
Nephara followed her and stuck out her tongue, making a "blehh" sound.
Enochia just giggled, thumb gliding across the screen on her phone. "Alright… let's see who's blessed enough to share a classroom with me."
Behind her, Nephara leaned over her shoulder out of curiosity, and froze. "Wait—wait, what? How the hell did you get the rankings already?! Isn't the only public info that you're rank 1??"
Enochia's hair literally lifted from static as she spun around, smacking a hand over Nephara's mouth. "Shhh!Do you want my brother to smite you where you stand?!"
"Mmph!" came the muffled protest.
Enochia sighed. "Okay, fine, maybe he gave me a couple of… minor privileges. I just wanted to see who I'd be, uhhhh, competing with."
Nephara's eyes smiled above Enochia's palm. She waited until Enochia's attention dropped back to the screen… then licked her hand.
"Wha—EW, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" Enochia stumbled back, shaking her hand like it was covered in acid.
Nephara just stared at her, completely deadpan. "What were you expecting? You literally put your hand in my mouth."
"Gross!" Enochia glared at the wet spot, a spark of white flame blooming over her palm. It flared for an instant, burning away the moisture. "Fantastic, but now it's too hot to touch anything for a full minute. Thanks."
"Anytime." Nephara said sweetly.
"Anyway," Enochia continued, flipping through the class roster with her other hand, "I already saw everyone in Alpha."
Nephara stepped closer, curious again. "Anyone we know?"
"Yeah, some really big players." Enochia smirked. "Obviously the best Saint alive, me, and her two loyal sidekicks, Nephara and Damaris."
"Hey!"
"Then there's Damian Steel. Duhhh, the prince of nepotism. But get this—Haruno Saito's in too. You know, that psycho who was all over the news for ceremonially killing his brother last year."
Nephara blinked. "No way. That guy?"
"Oh, and Ben Bob," Enochia added casually. "As in former U.S. president's second kid. Also, the daughter of Minos Prime's biggest donor. Apparently she barely scraped in, last place on the entry exams. She'll probably flunk out by next year."
Nephara gave a low whistle. "Some lineup. So the golden generation's more like the celebrity league."
Enochia paused mid-step, her smile fading as she glanced back down at the glowing screen.
"…Poor girl."
Nephara raised a brow. "Who?"
"This one," Enochia said, tapping the list. "Some girl named Klara. She had the exact same score as that donor's kid. Probably lost her spot because mommy wrote a big enough check. Total coin flip. Guess she'll be ruling Class Beta instead."
Nephara tilted her head. "Damn. That's rough."
"Yeah. She's gotta be pissed," Enochia said quietly.
As if summoned, a sharp, high-pitched voice cut down the corridor from in front them. "It's Clara Moretti, not Klara! And yes, I'm pissed—thank you for noticing!"
Both Enochia and Nephara froze, blinking in sync. They turned at the same time, sharing an invisible question mark between them.
Her uniform followed the same Minos design as everyone else's, but that was where the resemblance ended. The jacket sleeves were rolled up, the collar loose, the hem ripped and burned at the edges like she'd walked straight out of an explosion. Her skirt was uneven, one side torn high enough to show the sleek black combat leggings beneath, crisscrossed with belts and metallic clasps.
Her hair was jet black with blood-pink tips, cut unevenly at the chin, and each strand caught the light like a flare. Her eyes were red around the edges, set above a grin that looked halfway between beautiful and cocky.
And on her chest, polished to perfection despite the chaos of everything else, shone the emblem: Class Beta, Year One.
"Okay?" Enochia said slowly, uncertain whether she was supposed to care.
Clara's heels clicked faster. "Don't you 'okay' me! You talk about people behind their back and pity them, then just walk away?!"
"Uh…" Enochia scratched her cheek. "Yeah, I'm late for class, actually. No time for fan photos, sorry."
Nephara snorted.
The color in Clara's face went crimson. "Don't you dare act like I'm—wait, fan?! You—!"
Enochia was already walking past her, the cape of her uniform brushing just close enough to make Clara's hair sway.
Clara spun on her heel, shouting after them, "DON'T YOU JUST WALK PAST ME, AND WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU CALLING A FAN?!"
Enochia stopped mid-stride and turned slightly, her expression halfway between confusion and amusement. "If you're not a fan," she said, gesturing lazily with one hand, "Then why the hell are you late for your first class just to stalk me?"
Clara grinned, lips curling back to reveal teeth a little too sharp to be normal. She pointed straight at Enochia. "You seriously don't remember me? After everything?"
Enochia blinked. "Uhhh…" She turned to Nephara.
Nephara's face was the human equivalent of a blue screen, so she knew she was getting no help from her.
Enochia turned back. "Not really?"
Clara's jaw dropped. She stormed forward until she was close enough that Enochia could smell the faint metallic scent of her breath. "Made for Dead. Season one and two?! We were the leads, you idiot! You ghosted me after filming ended!"
A spark of realization flickered behind Enochia's eyes. "Ohhhhhh," she said slowly, snapping her fingers. "Yeahhhhh… that show sucked. Sorry."
Clara froze. "W—what?"
"I mean, the idea was cool," Enochia continued, "But the pacing fell apart. I kinda lost interest halfway through season two. You kept calling me about a season three, right? Yeah, I blocked you. Anyway, great job on your success. Really. Good hustle."
For a moment, Clara just stared. Her grin twitched. Then she began to laugh, a low, unsteady laugh that started cute and ended sharp. "You… blocked me?"
[Overkill]
A pulse of violet light flickered between her fingers as she raised her hand, and a small, sizzling orb of purple energy began to form.
Nephara's posture shifted instantly, stepping in front of Enochia with both hands raised. "Whoa, whoa, hey—easy there, rockstar. You sure you wanna turn your first morning into a catfight with her?"
Clara tilted her head, smirking. "Hell yeah, I'm sure."
"Alright then," Nephara said. "Just… before you embarrass yourself, do me a favor. Use a quick Analysis."
Clara scoffed. "What, you think she's that high above me? Please, don't you know I'm level eighty fucking nine, the highest of my entire class. A few levels won't make up for that spoiled princess."
"Humor me." Nephara said, crossing her arms.
Clara rolled her eyes but flicked her wrist.
[Analysis]
A small circle appeared in her iris, scanning Enochia from head to toe. The System pinged, and a glowing window opened before her:
─────────────────────────────
STATUS:
Name: Enochia Adams
Title: The Glorious
Level: 130
EXP: 129,920 / 130,000
HP: 1,250 / 1,250
MANA: 3,300 / 3,300
─────────────────────────────
The sound left Clara's throat before she could stop it, a faint, strangled 'oh.' Her arm lowered on instinct, the purple orb dimming into smoke that hissed out between her fingers.
Her mind scrambled for something, anything to say that didn't sound like surrender. "Tch… must be a glitch. I swear we were at a similar level… I saw your latest live."
Enochia grinned. "Do you really think I show my real level online? Also, haven't you heard of the dozens of people who saw me irl saying I was lying my ass off with that?"
Clara took a step back, straightening her jacket. "I—I wasn't gonna throw this, anyway. Just, you know… I wanted to screw with you a bit."
"Of course you weren't," Enochia said, smiling softly. "It's good to see you again though, Clara. Let's make this a habit, yeah?"
Clara just turned away sharply, muttering something under her breath that sounded like a curse. As the two continued towards the doors of their classroom, Nephara glanced at Enochia, grinning ear to ear. "You really had to say the show sucked, huh?"
"It did!" Enochia replied, stretching her arms. "Don't you know we're Saints by profession. Honesty's one of the Ten Commandments… At least I think?"
They were now in front of massive doors. They were made of black oak, polished way too much, carved with faint angelic patterns. Above them glowed the words CLASS ALPHA – YEAR ONE.